


A Chance Meeting in Wiltshire

by Isscha



Series: Thursday One-Shots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Young Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 15:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isscha/pseuds/Isscha
Summary: The Dursleys are forced to take a 6 year old Harry along with them on their vacation.  As they near their destination, they immediately drop him off along an abandoned road in the woods with nothing but the clothing he wore.This is the story of what happens after he’s left behind.





	A Chance Meeting in Wiltshire

Harry watches in bewilderment as Vernon’s blue car vanishes over crest of the hill.  He stands there, still and silent and waiting until his legs are shaking from lack of movement, but still his family does not return.  Uncle’s voice still rings in his ears.

 

“Boy, be back here in this spot in three days or you’re being left behind.”

 

And Harry, despite his young age, knows that this is no idle threat.  Vernon has done it once before, when he took Harry to the park and left him there to find his own way home when he was 3.  The park, however, is a mere two blocks from their house. Wherever he currently is standing is miles upon miles away from Surrey, and Harry knows he’ll never be able to find home again on his own.

 

When it is abundantly clear to the very young child that he truly is on his own for the next three days, he can’t stop the little grin that forms.  Three whole days of doing whatever he wants! Maybe he’ll make a friend Dudley can’t scare away! He just needs to stay far away from whatever city his family is in and so wanders off down the opposite direction from where had been deposited as mere rubbish.

 

He plods along for what feels like a year, following the first gravel road he comes across that winds through trees and bursts out into a hilly area dotted with clusters of trees with a large, old stone house-like building in the distance.  He can see the outline of a low stone wall and a colorful array of what must be plants and flowers. His step quickens. He’s hot, tired, thirsty, _and_ hungry and just wants to sit in some shade.  

 

By the time the 6 year old makes it to the very large building with the very fancy garden that has a shaded benched gazebo, he is exhausted and can’t help himself from entering the gardens.  He glances over a decorative fish pond with its clear, cool looking water and colorful koi and shudders. He’s not quite desperate enough yet to chance drinking fish water. He’s been thirstier, before.  Much thirstier.

 

He turns away from the temptation to slack his thirst as well as take some edge off his grumbly tummy and takes a chance to examine where he’s found to rest.  The gazebo is near the edge of an immaculate garden spread of hundreds of different flowers and other fauna that are obviously loved and cared for. He wonders if he has found a very rich man’s home, or if he has found a public gardens.  He very much hopes that the grounds he is trespassing on are public. He’s heard enough from Uncle about how if anyone ever saw or spoke to him, they would immediately know just how much of a freak he really is and then Harry would never leave the mad house he would be thrown into.

 

He very much wants to avoid being thrown into a madhouse.  It sounds worse than living with Uncle, Auntie, and Dudley.  

 

He is curious as to why he barely recognizes a third of the varieties of flowers.  After all, his Aunt orders only the very best flowers for her own Surrey Gardeners Society patch in their yard, and it is his responsibility to ensure they are taken care of properly and correctly.  

 

Not that anything he ever does is considered proper or correct, no matter how hard he tries.

 

Shoving aside the rather disheartening thought, the six year old scowls briefly and almost violently moves his gaze to examining the buildings nearby.  There is what is obviously a shed made of smooth white stone, though it is so tiny Harry marvels that the gardener can maintain such extravagant splendor of the garden without the supplies Harry knows are needed.  The shed is so small not even the rusted old wagon he uses to drag the plants around would be able to fit inside.

 

The outside of the main building is made of dark grey stone, and looks smoothed and polished as one of Dudley’s marbles.  It contrasts with the shed perfectly and he feels intimidated by the looming presence of the house.

 

He thinks it’s a house.  It very well could be a castle for all he knew, for even with its pristine outside condition, it resembles more the towering impressiveness of castles he’s managed to glimpse than it does any of the houses on Privet Drive.  

 

A voice startles him and he barely holds back a shriek.  “Hello. My name is Draco and this is my playhouse. What is your name?  Do you want to play with me?”

 

 _Playhouse?_  He looks at the carved benches, and the lack of toys, and eyes the grey eyed, white blond haired boy with suspicion.  No one has ever looked at him like they want to talk to him, like they want to be his friend, because everyone believes Dudley and leaves him alone.  And despite his earlier excitement about possibly finding a new friend, now that he’s faced with the possibility he’s absolutely terrified.

 

He knows this boy won’t know that he is a freak, and as such isn’t allowed to use his true name, but he’s also not allowed to let anyone find this out.  He wasn’t sure what to do in this instance, but the desire to make a friend overpowers the rules of his Uncle.

 

“I’m Harry.”  He replies softly, hoping he’s interacting like normal people do and not like the freak he is, and casts a quick look behind him to check that his family isn’t around to hear him speak like a normal boy before feeling silly and ridiculous.  Uncle left him and won’t come back for him for three days.

 

_Provided he comes back for me at all._

 

His stomach twists at the thought but he shoves the feeling away again.  He can think about that in three days.

 

“Do you like dragons?”  Draco asks, his pale grey eyes are flashing with excitement, though Harry can’t fathom what for.  Dragons, like magic and any other fantastical thing, are forbidden through threat of punishment, and Harry hates the punishments that follow after the freaky or weird things that happen or the things he’s said.  He’s not allowed to like dragons.

 

But, Uncle isn’t here.  He can like dragons here and now and so he nods hesitatingly.  He jumps again when a dragon toy is thrust into his face and he takes it carefully.  He shrieks with it nuzzles his hand and he holds it out as far from him as possible, eyes as wide as saucers.  

 

His new friend Draco is giggling at him, and he wants to feel shame at the sound and at his own reaction, but the laugh is bright and happy without a single bit of the derisive mocking Dudley and his gang like to use and he allows a little giggle to escape, as well.

 

“It’s just a toy.”  He says through his giggles, and Harry sighs.  

 

“I know that.”  He scowls again and this just sets off more giggles from the other boy.  “I’m not allowed to make the toys move like that.”

 

The boy shrugs and it’s almost careless, which makes Harry wonder if Draco is a freak, too.  “Can you make any toy move?” Draco asks with a curious head tilt. “I’ve only been able to make my books come off the shelf or turn their pages for me.  Father says my accidental magic doesn’t need to do a lot to be strong, though.”

 

“Accidental magic?”  He blurts out before he can shove the question down where all his questions go and the boy’s eyebrows fly up.  

 

“Aren’t you a wizard?”  Draco asks with a frown.  “Muggles can’t see our house.”

 

He wants to ask about muggles and wizards and he still didn’t have his question about accidental magic answered but he doesn’t ask.  He just shrugs and grins. “I am.” He says softly, and his grin just widens.

 

A wizard.  Not a freak.

 

When he looks over at the blond again, he has procured three other dragons and soon the two of them are darting around the gazebo shouting and playing.  Uncle never has to find out that Harry has found another little boy with the same freaky problems he has, nor does he have to know that the boy he has just met is very eager to share all he can about what Harry has always wondered about and now has a name for - his magic.

 

Harry can just play.  And so he does.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

Harry wakes the next morning with the sun and the birds, feeling more rested than he had ever felt before.  His stomach rumbles loudly and he scowls at it. “We’ve gone longer.” He reminds it matter of factly before he ruffles at his hair in an attempt to neaten it and rolls out from under the bench into the gazebo.  

 

He wonders if Draco will be outside at all today.

 

He doesn’t have to wonder for very long.  Harry’s just in the middle of arguing against drinking the pond water when he hears footsteps coming towards him.  Ducking quickly, he peeks up and sighs in relief to see the now familiar face of his new friend. “Hi!” He stands quickly and the other boy nearly drops whatever he is carrying with him.  Harry wonders why he’s got a broom with him, and hopes that Draco hasn’t decided he was a freak just like his family did and is going to put him to work.

 

“You’re already here!”  Draco’s grey eyes are comically wide and Harry frowns a little.  

 

“Yeah, where else would I be?”  He asks, and his confusion only grows when the other boy frowns, too.

 

“At...don’t you have a home?”  He finally whispers, and Harry nods.  

 

“Of course!  I live in Surrey.  My relatives are here on vacation and no one could watch me so they dumped me in the woods.”  His voice slows as he speaks, realization dawning that Vernon had probably meant for him to die last night alone and cold in the woods, eaten by wildlife or some nonsense.

 

Well joke is on Uncle Vernon because Harry has magic, and magic allows him to see Draco’s house, which means that Harry is not bear food after all.  

 

The broom falls out of Draco’s hand this time as both of his hands press to his mouth in horror.  “ _What?_ ”

 

He sounds so scandalized that Harry jumps.  He forgets that sometimes other people just don’t understand just how much of a problem child Harry is.  “It’s okay, really. I’m not wanted like Dudley is. This is the first time I wasn’t just given to Mrs. Figg.  I think she was in hospital for something with her hip.”

 

“What’s a hospital?”  Draco asks with a peculiar look in his eyes.  “Is that a muggle thing? Are you being raised by _muggles_?”

 

Judging from the way he spits out the strange word, Harry assumes that being a muggle is a bad thing.  “What are muggles?”

 

“Non-magical folk.”  Came a strange voice in reply, and the change in Draco is drastic.  He goes ramrod straight and Harry cowers away from Draco so quickly his back stings with the force of hitting the wall of the gazebo.  The voice belongs to a tall man accompanied by an equally tall woman and Harry refuses to lift his gaze from the floor when the man continues to speak in a cold voice.  “Which based on your vocabulary and questions, you are one. Draco come away from the muggle boy. We don’t associate with those lesser than us.”

 

Draco takes a step forward, his chin wobbling, when Harry is hit with a wave of intense anger at yet another adult dismissing him as ‘lesser’.  “I’m not a muggle!” He is not about to allow this man tell him that his magic isn’t real, that his magic isn’t freakish and wrong. And he’s not about to allow this man to make his new friend cry.  “I have magic, just like Draco.”

 

The boy whips around at his name and his face is lit up from Harry’s words.  He smiles widely and Harry starts to smile back when the tall blond man who must be Draco’s father now that he’s had a better look at him fixes a dark look at him.  The man’s expression is one of fury and suspicion and reminds him far to much of Uncle’s temper and what always follows it and Harry flinches back with a sharp whimper.  

 

The man’s eyes are almost hateful, as if he _is_ aware of just how much of a freak Harry is, and his heart sinks because he knows that now he’s going to have to spend his last day of freedom alone and friendless.  The woman however gives him a soft look before fixing the man with a piercing look.

 

“Lucius, be reasonable.  Muggles cannot enter the wards no matter if accompanied by Draco and you are well aware of this fact.”  The woman reminds the very scary man in the most mild tone Harry has ever heard. She then turns to him and her voice turns even more calm and even and it relaxes him a bit.  “Will you tell me about your magic?”

 

She doesn’t sound angry, like Auntie would if she were the one asking about his magic.  He has scars to prove just how angry Auntie would be. This woman’s soft blue eyes were warm and open, whereas his aunt’s eyes were cold and bitter and he feels compelled to spill everything, to grasp onto and accept this potential for rescue.

 

Timidly, he begins with the very first time he was locked inside his cupboard.  He had always slept there, but had never been locked inside of it. “When I was little, Dudley broke my arm.  When Aunt Petunia went to look at it, it fixed itself. She slapped me and then locked me up for a long time.”  He didn’t remember how long, but it apparently didn’t matter to the woman who was gaping at him in astonishment.

 

He didn’t understand why she was so bewildered at what he was saying but he ignores it like he ignores everything else he doesn’t understand.  He sighs as he tells them about how hard he has tried to pretend he's ordinary like his relatives want, but he can’t. And when he isn't ordinary and normal like them, he's punished with his cupboard, impossible chores, and withheld food.  He smiles a little at Draco. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met that can do what I can.”

 

“Lucius.”  The very pretty lady stands quickly and lays a hand on her husband’s arm.  “He’s staying with us.”

 

Harry’s brain stutters to a complete stop at hearing her words.  “I’m what?”

 

She whirls around and actually points at him with a long, elegant finger.  “You, young man, are going to be living here from now on. You will never see those horrible muggles ever again.”

 

That sounds pretty damn okay to Harry and he grins widely at her.  “You mean it?”

 

“Absolutely.”  She says firmly, ignoring the sputtering of her husband next to her.  “Come, we shall retrieve your belongings.”

 

Harry steps back from her reaching hand and flushes deeply with shame.  “I don’t have anything, not really. Not that I want to keep, anyway.”

 

She frowns and so do Draco and his father.  “What do you mean? Don’t you have a least a book or a toy you wish to keep?”

 

Harry shrugs and says matter of factly, “I never have time after all my chores are done for the day.”

 

He thinks Draco’s mum is very good at keeping her temper, because he can see it boiling in her eyes yet she has nothing but soft words and kind smiles for him.  He feels warm at the realization.

 

“Draco, he shall stay in your guest quarters.”  Lucius says in a tone that Harry thinks sounds rather flat, like he’d rather Harry not be staying but he’s too polite to say so.  Harry appreciates that the man is at least kind enough to allow him to stay, even if he doesn’t like Harry.

 

“What is your name, child?”  The woman asks, and he has to stop himself from answering with Boy or Freak.  

 

“Harry, Ma’am.”  He replies politely, and she nods.  

 

“And how old are you, Harry?”

 

He tries not to let the question surprise him, but he’s not sure he succeeded with her brow furrows just a hair.  “Erm. I think I’m six. Dudley is, anyway, and I’m only little bit younger.” Not that anyone has ever told him, but near the end of July is when Uncle and Auntie are extra mean to him so he assumes that his birthday is around there.

 

“You don’t know your birthday?”  Draco sounds absolutely scandalized at the very thought and it makes Harry giggle.  

 

It’s not a very happy giggle.  “Why would I need to know that?”

 

When his words are met with silence, he looks up to see what was the matter.  Both adults are staring now at his forehead and he realizes that his hair has fallen and exposed that horrible scar his aunt hates with a passion.  He can see a dawning look of horror in the light grey eyes of the tall man and he shrinks away from him and back into Draco, who grabs his hand with a concerned smile.  

 

“Narcissa.”

 

“No.”  

 

It is a simple exchange, but it is one that has Harry relaxing just a tad.  

 

“Narcie.”  Draco’s father sounds stern yet tired now but still the woman doesn’t budge.

 

If anything, her face only grows colder as she stares at the man and Harry wonders why she’s so angry.  “Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, I cannot _believe_ that you would even think to endorse the abuse of a magical child.”

 

“He is not just any…”  

 

“It does not matter!  He is an innocent _child_ , Lucius!  An abused, _magical_ child.”  Her shrill shriek cuts off the man entirely and Harry can’t help but gape at her openly.  

He can’t think of any time where an adult has actually fought _for_ him rather than against him.  When he hears Draco murmur a quiet apology and releases his hand, he realizes that his hand is throbbing from where the other boy had been gripping it in his anxiety.  He swallows a rather hysterical giggle and shuffles a step closer and behind his friend. He hates yelling, even if it isn’t directed at him, and Draco is a wonderful shield.

 

He has a hard time following any of the conversation but when he’s sitting at the dinner table copying Draco’s table manners, he realizes that they must have been serious about keeping him.  

 

He’ll have to give them a reason to.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

“Harry!  Darling, what on earth are you doing?”  

 

Narcissa’s normally docile tones are sharp and they draw him out of his thoughts. He stares at her wide eyed and trembling.  His gaze flicks between the cloth in his hand, the shiny wet of the clean patch of floor, and the very tall woman looming over him.  

 

“I earn my keep, Mrs. Malfoy.”  He says slowly, unsure if this is a test or genuine confusion from the woman who had determined to take him in.  “That is what burdens do.”

 

She makes a noise of disbelief that, along with the almost stunned expression on her face, only further confuses the undersized six year old.   _She doesn’t believe me_.  But what about?  He only repeated what he has always been told by his aunt and uncle, and they wouldn’t have a reason to lie to him would they?  After all, it’s not like he was a wanted child. They would never have been concerned about his feelings in that regard.

 

“Oh!”  She closes the last of the gap between the two so swiftly he doesn’t even have time to think about stepping back.  His breath hitches in confusion when she kneels down in the middle of the dirty puddle of water and grips his hands tightly in hers.  “Harry, my darling Harry. You are a delightful treasure. You are not a burden, never a burden. The only things we require of you is to do your very best to obey the rules.  Do you remember the rules Lucius gave you?”

 

Harry nods quickly, letting his pride in knowing all the rules take over the confusion.  “Yes’m.” He held up a finger as he recited each rule. “I am not to enter the study without permission.  I am to keep my room tidy myself as the house elves have enough to do and I am capable of throwing my own trash away and picking up my belongings.  I am to remember to bring honor to the Malfoy name by not being a hooligan in public. At home is a different story, but when we leave the wards we must remember that we are Malfoys and that Malfoys are respectable and proper.”  He recites obediently, and she realizes it was nearly word for word the exact speech Lucius gave him the day they gave him Draco’s guest suite two weeks ago.

 

She blinks at him in amazement.  “Harry, I’m not sure Draco could recite the rules verbatim the way you just did.”

 

He flushes, still unused to any sort of praise or acknowledgement that he’s done something correctly and he has to fight to not flee and hide from her intensely proud and kind eyes.  

 

“Have to remember.”  He mumbles, eyes fixed on the scrub cloth.  He swallows hard and the lessons he had learned young fly through his mind and his eyes unfocus as he loses himself in regurgitating every repeated comment and jib.  

 

“Not going to waste words on the freak.  You don’t get a room, boy. Stay in the cupboard where the other unwanted things go, like the freak you are.”  His blank face takes on a sneer. “Stupid boy, don’t touch nice things like chairs and beds and toys because you are dirty and ruin everything you touch.  Don’t appreciate good food, do you, you freaky little monster? Take your scraps and be grateful for what you get. No snivelling, no complaining, no noise.”  How often had he been told each one of these that he could say them without thinking about it? He’s not sure anyone could count that high.

 

“Harry.”  Her voice is sad, and Harry’s eyes meet hers to confirm that he wasn’t hearing wrong.  Her ice blue eyes that normally flare with spunk and mirth are bright and wet with unshed tears and he realizes with a jolt that she is sad for _him_ , because of the barbs and insults he’s heard since he came to live with his family.  

 

When a tear spills over, he tilts his head and reaches a tiny finger out to touch it.  “No one’s cried for me before.” He says almost reverently and the rest of the tears flow unbidden.

 

“Harry, I delight in sharing conversations with you.  You are not a waste of my words, nor are you a waste of my emotions.”  She says through her tears and Harry’s eyes widen. Does she really…? She pushes on, interrupting his thoughts.  “I wish I could give you the _world_ Harry, you and Draco both.  In fact -”

 

He has to interrupt her.  “Mrs. Malfoy, you’ve already given me enough.”  He says earnestly, wringing his hands worriedly.  “I don’t need _more_.  I’m very grateful with what I already have.”

 

“Oh, my darling boy.”  She cups his face in her hands and kisses his forehead.  “We haven’t even touched on everything new that is just for you.  Come with me.” She stands elegantly and holds her hand out to him.

 

Nearly in a trance, his body tingling from the kiss, he wonders if this was what being loved feels like.  Wordlessly, he takes her offered hand and allows her to lead him up the stairs where Draco’s wing and the empty wing branch off from the landing.  Instead of taking him to the left and towards the guest room he had been sleeping in, they turn to the other side of the landing and they walk down a hallway that was a mirror image of Draco’s.

 

“Did you get Draco new stuff, too?”  Harry asks softly and he frowns when she shakes her head no.  

 

“He did not need new things, you did.”

 

Harry doesn’t understand what she means.  Dudley never needed new things either, but he got them all the time.  “But, won’t he be jealous I have new things and he doesn’t? Shouldn’t you buy him new things, instead?  I’m okay with what he doesn’t want.”

 

“Why on earth would I give you things that Draco no longer needed or wanted?”  She glances down at him with a startled expression. “You and Draco have different interests and tastes in decor.  For instance, Draco loves his reds and browns. Do you remember what colors you told me when I asked you last week?”

 

He nods eagerly, hair flopping wildly around his head.  “The colors of the sea. Blues and greys and greens.” He sighs happily.  The glimpses of the ocean he has managed to catch has always captivated him and he wants that around him all the time.  

 

“You see?  And if he is jealous, then it will be an opportunity for him to learn that fair does not always mean equal or identical.”  They stop in front of a simple door with delicate vines etched into the woodwork and a silver plaque that reads Guest. “This is the first of four rooms I’m going to show you.  This room is very much like the room you are currently sleeping it. It will be a room for any friends you have over to sleep in and has its own on-suite bathroom so you will not have to share with anyone.”  She opens the door and Harry pokes his head inside.

 

The room is identical to Draco’s guest room and he grins up at Mrs. Malfoy.  “It’s wonderful!” He says with bright eyes. “If I ever have friends, they will love it!”

 

“You will have friends, Harry, I promise you.”  Her eyes burn, and Harry is surprised at how fiercely she says it.  She hasn’t lied to him yet, so she must be telling the truth now and Harry grins at the thought of someday having friends other than Draco.

 

“What room are you going to show me next?”  He asks, a little excited now. He can’t believe that all of this was for him!  

 

“Well.”  She draws out the E playfully.  “I was going to ask you. Do you want to see your bathroom, your bedroom, or your playroom?”

 

His mouth drops open. “I have my own playroom?”  He manages to squeak out and she laughs lightly.

 

“Of course you do!  You surely don’t think you and Draco are required to always play together.  You are welcome to, of course, but all siblings wish for time alone on occasion and I’m certain that whilst not yet siblings, you will want your own space to play.”

 

“And I have toys in there?”  He still can’t wrap his head around the idea that he apparently now has enough belongings to require separate rooms for them.

 

She nudges him gently to the next door.  “I believe that shall be the room we see next.”  

 

His eyes grow wide with anticipation.  Half of him is trying to remind himself that all of this is bound to be some sort of trap and that he is a fool for letting his guard down whilst the other half of him just doesn’t want to worry about that because it was wonderous to him that he is a loved little boy here and not a worthless burden.  He wants to accept whatever Mrs. Malfoy wanted to give him.

 

They stop in front of a door painted a very light grey that contrasted delicately with the cream of the hallway.  The silver plaque on the door reads Playroom and he hesitates. She smiles at him and he tries to smile back. “Remember.  Draco’s playroom was designed special for him. He loves his room very much, but I know it’s a bit busy for you.”

 

He can’t argue her on this.  Draco’s playroom is filled with a pirate ship that juts out from the wall and has a very large three story playhouse with a rope ladder and his toys lay everywhere.  

 

All the time.  

 

It drives Harry nuts.  He’s not surprised Draco prefers to play outside in the gazebo when his own playroom is such a disaster.

 

Narcissa urges him gently to push the door open so he does, trembling with nerves about what, if anything, lay beyond.  

 

Inside, however, is a room that far exceeds any of his previous expectations and hopes alike.  The main color of the walls are the same soft grey shade that was on the outside of the door, save for one wall where a branching tree anchored to the floor, ceiling, and the corner.  The wall around where the tree anchored is painted as a beautiful summer day overlooking grassy sand dunes and out over a moving wall mural of the sea. Where one of the branches reaches into the ceiling hangs a wicker basket seat of a mellow sand grass green and filled with various shades of grey pillows and a fluffy deep-sea blue blanket.  

 

In another corner sits a series of short shelves filled with wicker boxes of what Harry can only assume are toys.  Anchored into the ceiling near the center of the room are two rope swings with round seats and the plushest storm grey carpet rug underneath.  

 

A long table with two chairs are pushed against a wall with baskets of various art materials on top.  In another corner of the room lays a pile of patterned pillows with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a ladder charmed to ensure the climber can’t fall.  

 

The room is calming and easy to organize and it fills everything Harry had ever desired in his own room and she had specially designed it for _him_.  Draco’s playroom is so hard to relax in because it is always such a mess, and his instincts are still to clean the mess, not play with it.  He swallows hard, an uncomfortable overwhelming feeling of hysteria bubbling up and threatening to escape.

 

“Oh, oh Mrs. Malfoy.”  Harry pressed trembling fingers to his mouth as he slowly spun around the room, trying to take it all in.  “It’s...It’s…”

 

She simply kneels next to him and folds him against her chest with her arms wrapped tightly around him, and he knows that she understands what he is trying to say.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

He has barely had his playroom for an hour when the tornado that is Draco Malfoy comes bursting through the door.

 

“Harry!  This is amazing!”  

 

The blond doesn’t even breath before he’s pulling baskets off the short shelves.  “What toys did Mother buy you? Can I play with them?”

 

Harry doesn’t get a chance to respond before the basket of magical animals is dumped on the floor and another basket is pulled out.  He’s helpless to watch as Draco starts to dump out every basket in an effort to find something specific.

 

He’s starting to feel his magic bubbling up in his anger, but before he can react to Draco destroying his safe haven, Narcissa sweeps into the room and promptly has Draco attached to a chair with a sticking charm on his backside.

 

“Explain yourself immediately Draco Lucius Malfoy.”  Harry hasn’t heard that tone from Narcissa yet, and he shivers involuntarily.  She sounds royally pissed, like if Aunt Petunia had thought Harry had done something to Dudley, and he feels a bubble of unexpected happiness that he’s being defended yet again.  

 

The trapped boy pouts, his lip extending further than even Dudley’s. “Well Harry didn’t tell me no!”

 

“I guarantee you didn’t give him a chance to.”  Narcissa immediately shoots back with an arched brown.  

 

Draco scowls and crosses his arms tightly over his chest.  “No one tells a Malfoy no!”

 

She frowns and is about to say something when Harry beats her to it.  

 

“What about if you’re touching someone and then they ask you to stop?”  He asks in a quiet voice.

 

Draco puffs up indignantly.  “Well, I’d tell who ever it was they’d better be grateful a Malfoy is even acknowledging them!”

 

Harry pulls back further from Draco, huddling into a tighter ball.  “Well, I think that’s just mean. It’s not a nice feeling when you tell someone no and to stop and they don’t listen.”

 

And Draco stops in his ranting and stares at Harry as if just now remembering what sort of people had been raising and abusing his new foster brother, because he immediately turns ashen.  “I’m sorry, Harry. I wasn’t thinking.” He sounds absolutely horrified with himself, and the fear in his grey eyes belay the same horror with his own behaviour.

 

Harry shrugs and fights his natural inclination to back away from the apologetic gaze.  He can’t put to words just how uncomfortable it makes him feel to have someone apologize to him.  It just isn’t done. Harry is never the one in the right, ever. He is the only one who is ever in the wrong, all the time.  “It’s fine.” He mumbles, tugging at the bottom hem of his shirt and edging back towards his tree basket nest.

 

“No, no it isn’t!”  Draco cries out and takes an involuntary step forward before stopping and wringing his hands.  “I hurt your feelings, and I don’t like how that made _me_ feel.  I don’t like that something I said made _you_ feel bad.”

 

Harry blinks.

 

He rubs at his eyes a bit and blinks again.  

 

Yet Draco still stands there, earnestly staring at him while Mrs. Malfoy stands there with a teary sort of pride on her face.  

 

“I’m not used to people caring how I feel.”  He blurts out before clapping a hand over his mouth.  Being away from the Dursleys is not good for his ability to keep secrets, apparently.  

 

“Well get used to it!”  Draco says in his demanding ‘I’m a Malfoy so listen to me’ voice, his pale cheeks flushing and his hands form fists and rise to plant firmly on his hips.  “Because you’re a Malfoy now and that means at least three people care about you, and you have no choice in the matter.”

 

“Draco, you can say that a lot more delicately.”  Narcissa gently admonishes before addressing Harry once more.  “What he _means_ to say is that since you are now part of our family, you will have lots of opportunities to get used to being loved and cared for, Harry.  That includes my listening ear in times when my eldest is the one in the wrong, such as him barging into your rooms today without permission.”  

 

She fixes Draco with a warning look and he bows his head and fiddles with his fingers again.  “I will not favor either one of you over the other. Sometimes the rules may be slightly different, or I will react in a different manner depending on if I’m talking to you, Harry, or you, Draco.” She places a gentle hand on each boy’s shoulder.  “You have both led very different lives up until now, and that shapes how I must discipline or react in situations. However, from now on, you both will have the same upbringing. You might have noticed already Harry, I know how sharp you are.”

 

Harry nods solemnly.  He has indeed noticed that ever since he came to live with them, he has been treated exactly the same as Draco.  Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Malfoy have treated him as if he were less than their own flesh and blood - in fact they’ve treated him even better than his aunt and uncle treat their own son!  She’s even been very careful to emphasize that he and Draco are now brothers, that Harry is as much a part of the family as if he had been born, despite only being there two week.

 

“But _I’m_ the Malfoy heir!”  Draco says with a worried frown.  “Does that mean Harry is going to sit in with me on my lessons?”

 

“Yes.”  Narcissa nods with an upheld hand in an effort to keep her biological son’s outburst from emerging.  “Because while he is not the Malfoy heir, he _is_ the Potter heir and so needs to learn just as much as you do, my love.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”  Draco replied softly, his indignant posture slumping back to normal instantly.  “Well that’s good then.”

 

“Draco.”  His wide eyes fix on his mother’s stern face as she returns to the problem currently in progress of being solved.  “Harry’s wing is just that. His. He is the only one who can give you permission to be here. If he asks you to leave, you must listen.  And Harry.” He barely flinches at his name, already watching her every move. “The same goes for you. If Draco asks you to leave any of his rooms, you need to listen to him.”

 

Harry nods quickly.  That rule is a given, in his mind.  Of course, he also still feels like his rooms aren’t really his, and still worries that Draco will one day bully them away from him, but he also knows deep down that Draco had no real desire to have any of Harry’s rooms.  He forces himself to relax.

 

He finally has a family.  He’s not going to screw this chance up.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

Vernon and Petunia Dursley

Number 4 Privet Drive

Surrey

 

1/1/1988

 

[Enclosed in the envelope with the letter are two pictures of Harry, one by himself on his Cleansweep Junior with his hand closing around the practice snitch and the other one of all four of them looking regal and elegant in their best dress robes.]

 

_Dursley Family,_

 

_I am writing you for one purpose, and one purpose only.  I want you to understand just what you gave up when you left Harry abandoned along a dirt road in Wiltshire._

 

_I know you don’t care, but he’s seven now.  He insists that it is important to acknowledge that he is seven and a half, though I blame my biological son for that new habit._

 

_We made sure that our Harry had enough gifts on his birthday to make up for the years of nothing he received from you, and he was so appreciative and insisted he not get any more after he only opened one.  I, of course, did not heed him as every child deserves to be spoiled on their birthday, your nephew included._

 

_He is brilliant flying on a broom, even better I’m sure than he ever would have been sweeping with yours._

 

_He makes friends so easily, despite the damage you inflicted on his psyche, and he is well liked amongst his peers._

 

_I wonder if you even realize that neglect is just a name for a type of abuse._

 

_I love Harry with all my heart.  I cannot fathom how you could have him and not love such a wonderful boy.  You disposed of a brilliantly clever child who has a love for learning and books.  You carelessly threw away a soul who is kind and loving, who would give the very shirt off his back if it would keep the other person safe and warm.  You tossed away a child who I now consider my son, and who my son considers a brother._

 

_I hope you look at the photographs of the darling treasure you so carelessly cast aside and feel horrible guilt that you could not manage to treat your nephew like your own child._

 

_He and his deceased parents are responsible for the downfall of what would have been my family’s rise to glory and power, yet I find nothing but love in my heart for an orphaned child.  I cannot help but wonder why you could not do the same._

 

_Your doorbell will be ringing shortly.  I suggest you answer it._

 

She leaves the letter unsigned, blots the ink and smirks before casting a charm that will compel the simple minded muggles to read to the end.  It will give enough time for the muggle police to arrive and arrest them for attempted murder and child abuse after she sent in the evidence.

 

Her clandestine contact with her disowned sister came in handy in exacting revenge for her Harry.  Andromeda’s muggleborn husband Ted was a wonderful help in transforming the memories she took from Harry and her own of his battered body into photographs and hospital records that were immediately and anonymously on their way to the police now along with the freshly sealed letter to Harry’s muggle relatives.

 

She watched both owls disappear over the horizon and remained in their owlery for a moment, lost in thought.  No one abused a magical child and got away with it, not if she could do something. And the use of muggle law enforcement meant a better chance of Albus Dumbledore not finding out until it was too late to intervene.  She has proof that he was the one who left the boy in a home who abused him, but even Lucius with his contacts has been unable to touch the old man as of yet.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

“Mother!”  A newly turned 9 year old Harry slides into the dining hall waving a paper over his head.  “Mother!” He yells again when he doesn’t see her at the table.

 

“I’m in the study.”  She calls back and he darts down the hall to where he can see her standing in the doorway.  

He thrusts the envelope at her as soon as he’s close enough.  “Is it real? Is this it?”

 

She glances at the folded parchment and gives a light little laugh at the sight of the ministry seal.  “Yes, I believe it is, darling.” She smooths his hair and motions for him to sit on the couch. “Mipsy, send for Draco and Lucius please.”  

 

The young elf pops out just as silently as she had popped in and soon Harry can hear his brother running and his father striding quickly and he wiggles around with impatience.  

 

“Mother, did it come?”  Draco is breathless and pink cheeked as he collapses dramatically next to Harry and drapes himself over his foster brother’s lap still trying to catch his breath.

 

Lucius settles himself on the arm of the chair Narcissa was perched in.  “Well, love?”

 

She opens the envelope and the two adults scan the paper inside with growing smiles.  Harry is practically vibrating in his anticipation, and Draco is faring no better. “You are officially part of the family, Harry.  You are now Harrison James Abraxas Malfoy.”

 

Draco lets out a shriek of joy and launches himself off the couch to spin around in dizzying circles.  “Yes!”

 

Harry ignores his brother’s exuberance and just stares at his new parents with wide eyes, barely breathing.  “No one can take me away?”

 

“Never.”  Lucius answers without hesitation and opens his arms with a warm half smile.  Harry immediately dashes over and launches himself at his father, blinking furiously to keep back the tears that want to fall.  

 

When he finally pulls back, he sees that his father has had no such luck, and is wiping away a stray tear.  He scowls at Harry when he sees him watching and shoots him towards the stairs. “Go, prepare for your birthday party.  Guests arrive in an hour and you both still need to bathe.”

 

“Pansy is still coming, right?”  Draco halts his spinning to ask and Lucius inclines his head.

 

“As well as Gregory, Vincent, Susan, and Daphne, yes.  Unfortunately, Blaise cannot make it today. His stepfather is unwell.”

 

Harry’s face falls in disappointment, but he remains silent.  He knows there is no use in complaining over something that cannot be helped.  “Is Theo still not coming?”

 

His father smiles mysteriously and his disappointment at a lack of Blaise vanishes with the silent information that Theo will make it after all.  “Thank you for letting me know, Father.” He tugs on Draco’s arm and the two boys dart out of the study. “I bet I’ll be done first, and look the best.”  He says playfully to Draco.

 

His grey eyes flash and Harry snickers at his brother’s predictability.  “I could look better than you without even trying and in half the time.”

 

“Careful.  You sound like a Gryffindor, making such lofty promises.”  Harry says absently, knowing that Draco will make a face that looks like…

 

There it is.  Draco’s irritated face looks like he drank an entire glass of pure lemon juice without any sugar and it makes Harry giggle every time he sees it.  

 

“You take that back!”

 

“Never!”  

 

“Take it back!  You’re not being fair!”

 

“Now you sound like a Huf…”  He’s cut off with Draco throwing a blanket in his face.  By the time he’s managed to untangle himself, he can hear Draco laughing maniacally as he closes his own bathroom door and Harry curses under his breath as he turns and runs down his own hall.  He is not going to be late to his own birthday party, nor is he going to let Draco show him up.

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

Harry hates wearing his starched robes, and if Draco’s shuffling is any indication, he feels just as uncomfortable.  Father shoots both of them an irritated look, and Harry immediately halts his fidgeting. He’s given an appreciative look just before Father leans down to hiss into a still fidgeting Draco’s ear.  

 

The result is instantaneous.  Draco stops his shuffling, but the scowl remains.  Harry fights back a giggle, and is left with just a smirk on his face that Mother side eyes disapprovingly.  “Don’t taunt your brother, Harrison Abraxas.”

 

The use of his Malfoy name wipes the smirk clean off his face, the words a useful reminder that they are in public and to remember the rules.  It’s Draco’s turn to shoot him a smug little smirk before turning to their mother. “You’ll write us, right?”

 

“Of course, Draco.  Daily if you wish it.”  She says softly and kisses the top of his head when she pulls him into a hug.  

 

Harry swallows around the lump in his throat, wondering not for the first time if his birth parents would have sent him off to Hogwarts with just as much pride and love as Narcissa and Lucius are with Draco and him both.  He looks around at the crowded platform full of milling students and weeping parents and he grimaces at the painfully open displays of emotion all around him. He doesn’t understand how people can be willing to expose themselves _that much_ around strangers.  Hugs are understandable and acceptable.

 

“Harry.”  He abandons his thoughts and turns his head quickly at the soft yet commanding tone from his father.  “They are watching over you.”

 

He doesn’t know how Father always knows what he’s thinking, and he has to bite his cheek to keep his reaction proper in case someone is watching them.  He blinks in an effort to stem the emotional tears that want to fall, but he fails this time and two tracks trace down his cheeks. He’s given a rare smile from Father, rare in that he rarely smiles at anyone outside the manor, and then to his utter surprise is swiftly folded into a warm, tight embrace.  

 

“Write as soon as you can.”  He says sharply, tone completely opposite of the warmth in his grey eyes as he looks down at Harry.  “Let us know what house you are sorted in.”

 

Houses.  The twisting anxiety that flares is an instant halt to the threat of crying and he swallows hard.  “Father, what if I _am_ in Gryffindor?”

 

A pale eyebrow raises.  “Do you not wish to be?”  He asks in a carefully blank tone that gives Harry no hints as to what he’s truly thinking about the matter.  

 

He shakes his head.  “I thought you might be angry were I sorted there.”

 

To his surprise, Father lets out a soft laugh.  “I will only be angry if you break rules and dishonor the Malfoy name.  You will make me proud no matter what house you are in, Harry.”

 

He feels his stress melt away at that and beams in relief.  “I will write as soon as I am in the dorms. I love you, Father.”

 

“And I you, Harry.”  He gives Harry one last tight squeeze before gently directing him towards Narcissa who sweeps him up into an even tighter hug than Lucius gave.

 

“Oh my darling Harry, you will have the most wonderful time.”  She murmurs softly, and kisses his forehead tenderly. “Watch after Draco.  He’ll do the same for you, no matter what houses you two end up in.”

 

He feels a tugging on his arm and he whips around to see Theo behind him, and Blaise waving from a window on the train.  “He’s saved us a compartment.” The taller boy says and Harry gives his family a helpless look.

 

“Go, love.”  Mother says with a smile that is tinged with a little sadness.  “I will miss you desperately.”

 

“Love you, Mother.”  Harry says breathlessly and she releases him to Theo.  

 

“Go.”  She repeats and both boys wave as they dash off onto the train, their trunks already in their car with Pansy and Blaise.  

 

“Come on.”  Draco weaves around a pair of identical twins who are obviously part of the Weasley clan showing another boy a fuzzy tarantula and Harry shudders at the sight of them just holding the spider in their bare hand.  One of the sliding doors slams open and Pansy beams at them from the other side.

 

“You made it!” She squeals, and Draco rolls his eyes.  

 

“Of course we did.”  He snaps, plunking himself inelegantly on the seat next to Blaise.  Theo and Harry sit next to Pansy and Harry pulls his legs up to rest his arms on them.

 

“Have you seen Harry Potter?”  

 

A redhead stands in the doorway and Harry recognizes him as the youngest of the Weasley boys.  Before he can respond, the boy’s face turns dark and Harry follows his line of sight to see his brother at the other end of his glare, a similar one on his own face.  

 

“Weasley.”  Draco says flatly.

 

“Malfoy.”  The other boy sneers back.  He looks over at Harry again and shakes his head.  “You must be Harry Potter, because you look just like the picture of James Potter my dad has from his days in the war.”

 

“I was.”  Harry admits reluctantly.  “And you are?”

 

“I’m Ron.  Ron Weasley.”  Ron grins crookedly at Harry, and Harry gives him a small smile back.  The boy seems friendly enough.

 

That is, until he opens his mouth and starts to speak.  “Why are you with a Malfoy?”

 

Harry’s smile grows cold and sharp at the hateful tone Ron spits out his last name.  “Because I am one.”

 

“But you’re Harry Potter!”

 

“Potter Malfoy.”  Draco corrects haughtily.  “He is my brother in every way that counts, and that includes the wrath of my father if you lay a hand or a negative word against him.”

 

Ron’s eyes widen and the color drains from his face before determination floods in its place.  “Well then, it’s nice to meet you Harry Malfoy.”

 

All five of the group just stare at him in disbelief.  Pansy and Draco are both openly gaping at the redhead, and Blaise just looks amused.  Theo and Harry exchange a glance and then grin over at Ron, though it’s Harry who finally speaks up.  “It’s nice to meet you, too. Want to join us?”

 

**~~*~*~~**

 

“Uncle Severus is smiling at us.”  Draco’s voice hisses in his ear, and he moves back with a pinched scowl aimed at the other boy.  He hates it when Draco does that. His breath is hot and always leaves his ear and neck feeling clammy.

 

The potions professor does not appear to be smiling with his mouth, but Harry knows that the man’s warmth and affection for the pair of them resides purely in his eyes.  He resists the urge to wave at his godfather - the man he considers an uncle - and spins around to nudge Ron who is chatting quietly with Theo about the Chudley Cannons. “Better read your potion text books before you come to class.  He likes to ask stupidly hard questions to see if anyone has read ahead. Even if you’re a Gryffindor like you think you’ll be, he’ll tolerate you in class better if you can prove you know how to read and learn.”

 

Ron pales and Draco shoves at Harry’s shoulder lightly.  “You’re scaring him. He’s our friend now, so Uncle Severus won’t be horrible to him.”

 

The redhead is still ashy, but Harry's words seem to encourage him and he nods with a small grin at Draco’s declaration before turning back to his conversation.  

 

The same tall imposing witch from before, Professor McGonagall, appears in front of the gathered first years once again and they all fall silent.  “Thank you for remaining with your partner in line. We are ready for you.”

 

Harry feels his stomach drop.  No matter what Father had said to him at the train, he just knows that he will be a disappointment if he’s not a Slytherin like Draco is certain to be.  He just hopes that no matter what house he is in that Draco, his gaggle of pureblood friends, and his new friend Ron will still talk to him.

 

Harry watches as the other first years are slowly called up and sat down on a stool.  An old, dirty, ripped pointed hat is placed on each head and after a moment of deliberation - some short others longer - a house is yelled for all to hear.

 

Millicent Bulstrode is immediately moved into Slytherin, as well as Vincent Crabbe and Tracie Davis. Susan is in Hufflepuff, and Daphne skips over to the Slytherin table to sit with Millie and Tracie.  Neville Longbottom takes a very long time, but he’s eventually put into Gryffindor.

 

He wonders where Ron will be put.

 

He swallows when Draco’s name is called.  He knows that he’ll be next, his Hogwarts letter came addressed to Harrison Malfoy and he knows that is what will be read out by the transfiguration professor.  

 

Draco barely has time to sit on the stool before the hat shrieks out Slytherin, and Harry just shakes his head at the prideful smirk on his brother’s face.  No one would guess that the same boy was nearly sobbing this morning in their father's arms, distraught at the idea  _what if he’s put into Gryffindor_?!  Harry nearly laughs again at the memory.  

 

Draco a Gryffindor.  Utterly ridiculous.

 

The expression on Dumbledore’s face when Harrison Malfoy is called up is priceless and Harry wishes he could send the memory with his first letter home.  He gives the headmaster a smug little smirk, much to the obvious amusement of his godfather and sits primly on the stool. There’s hardly a pause from when he sits on the stool to when the rip in the hat opens and bellows it’s verdict.

 

“Better be...”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, open ending, ugh. But, I felt this ending was the best as right now, I have no plans to continue it. I might write a couple of oneshots about his years at Hogwarts as a Malfoy and if I do, I will obviously reveal his house then. The plot here could go a million different ways and they all depend on what house Harry is in, and I simply have too many other projects in the works that rank higher on my priority. Two of my long projects begin the first week of January as well as another Thursday one-shot. 
> 
> Tuesday, January 1 begins a 27 chaptered stand alone story titled Saturday Tea featuring a post war Harry, Narcissa, and Draco and will update every Tuesday. Eventual Drarry. 
> 
> Thursday, January 3 A New Home for Freaks will post as a Thursday One-Shot. Warnings on this one include very graphic mentions of various types of child abuse, and features a decent Severus Snape. Eventual Severitus, adoption. Starts pretty dark, ends super hopeful, and is mostly done being written already. 
> 
> Saturday, January 5 begins a series re-write that tells the story of what Harry’s life could have been like had Severus Snape taken Harry from the ruins that night and raised him. The series is titled Raising Harry, and the first story is a 12 (very long chapters) chaptered tale outlining each year of Harry’s life growing up until Hogwarts and is titled A Childhood Well Spent, and will update every Saturday. Eventual Drarry - probably not until fifth year. I’m very proud of what I’ve done so far. I have all seven books outlined, and most of the first two books completely written and I can’t wait to start sharing it.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the Christmas Drarry stories! I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to post as I work at a candy store in a mall and this time of year is crazy busy, however I do have 8 total stories planned. Hopefully I can get through them all in December, but if not I have them for when I do have time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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